Black Road to Heaven

Chapter 12: Freda

“Why are you so desperate to rid yourself of one?” Charles was shouting at me after I had suggested he go back to bed, then that he go and get some fresh air, and then that he should go and check on the servants. Perhaps I had been a little too insistent that he busy himself elsewhere.

I laughed nervously, “I am not darling! I am just concerned about you; you really do look awfully tired.” As I stood, wondering whether I sounded in the least convincing; Charles stood, seemingly believing everything I was telling him.

“Do I really?” He asked, and after a profuse nod from me, he continued to say, “Well, perhaps a little lie down would do no harm to one. I could check on the servants after that if you like?”

Glancing at the Grandfather clock to my right, I saw that it was only one quarter of an hour before the girl was due to be arriving, but she could easily be early. I nodded to him a bit too eagerly and touched his forehead lightly with the back of my hand. “Oh darling, are you catching a fever? We had better get you up to bed.” I made sure I stood very closely to him, remembering in the old days before we married where I could make him do almost anything I wanted by just gazing into his eyes. I sighed and managed to stop my gaze from travelling to the mirror behind my husband. Had I gotten very old in the time that we married, had I lost my looks? It had only been a year...

I wondered for a moment, what he thought of my sudden change of attitude towards him. Before now, I had been rather distant and even cold, after our argument in the carriage; but then I assumed he would probably think I felt guilty.

After putting my husband to bed, I came back down the stairs and proceeded to pace up and down, trying to neaten my thoughts. This was all a big mistake; I could feel it in my bones. I had done this in a moment of madness, how could I undo my actions?

Suddenly I felt much older than I was; much more tired and I sat down. I wish I was a girl of fourteen again, laughing and giggling with Catherine about who we would marry, and sneaking down to our parents’ balls and sipping champagne thinking we were grown up. I so wish I had not married Charles...

“Lady Freda ma’am,” I heard a cry from the back of the house. Anna, my kitchen maid rushed in saying, “There is a negro outside asking for you ma’am! I told Ella not to bother you but-”

I stood up and told Anna to bring her through to the drawing room.

She was very taken aback at my lack of shock. “But, but m’Lady surely-”

“Hurry up!” I said impatiently to her.

She faltered for a moment and then scuttled away out of the door.